Valerie Bell's Story

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http://www.benzo.org.uk/

 

Valerie Bell's Story

 

The only answer is to stop taking these evil drugs

 

This is my very long story of benzo problems. The main reason for

telling it is to try to help others to come off these evil drugs.

 

Please, whatever hits you, and for how ever long, even if advised by

the doctor, NEVER DO WHAT I DID. Every time you come off them it gets

worse and God knows for how long.

 

Except for one occasion I had never visited the doctor in 42 years but

my medical file since I started the benzos is so thick you almost need

a wheelbarrow to carry it. I have seen 33 different psychiatrists and

doctors as well as addiction specialists and taken every kind of

alternative medicine you can think of. The only specialist I have not

seen is a vet - well not yet anyway!

 

I was first prescribed benzos in 1984. In August I had been away with

friends on holiday and had a fabulous time except for a few panicky

feelings, but they weren't too bad.

 

On 15 September 1984 we were at a party and I had a really bad panic

attack. I also felt quite depressed. I had been on a very strict diet

and I think with hindsight this was the problem. I then made my first

of many mistakes. I went to see a psychiatrist. Fourteen years earlier

I had had a panic attack and a doctor had put me on Ativan which

freaked me out. I felt fear, unreality, hallucinations, agoraphobia,

deep depression etc from it. I was terrified of this happening again

and because in those days we didn't know what we know today I thought

it had to be me. I thought I would be put away. Fortunately I was

introduced to one of the few psychiatrists that didn't like benzos and

he took me off them without too much pain.

 

For the next 14 years I had a wonderful life, beautiful home, ran my

own florist's business, had a terrific social life, happy marriage and

lived life to the full.

 

Like everyone else when life is going well you start to look for

problems - something has to go wrong. I started to worry about our

financial situation and I felt we were living beyond our means. I

started to worry every time a bill came through the door. My mother,

whom I adored, had died of cancer and I suppose this also took more

out of me than I realised at the time.

 

Back to 1984. Of course I didn't realise that going to see this

psychiatrist was just the start of my problems. I saw him privately

because I thought that's how you get the best treatment.

 

The first thing he prescribed me was Xanax, the worst of the lot I

later discovered. He assured me that it was a new drug from America

and not a benzo.

 

Over the next two years he continually increased the dose, I went up

to 4mg a day and to this he added a strong antidepressant, Marplan, a

MAOI. I continued to live half a life; I was either high or low, had

long bouts of unreality which I got used to living with. I suppose

after two years of taking this combination of drugs my system had

learnt how to cope with them and I more or less levelled out. I went

to Australia for a lovely holiday and carried on with life in what I

thought was a normal way. This would probably have gone on for years

had it not been for our local pharmacist. A new owner had taken over

and he pointed out that, in his opinion, these pills would end up

killing me.

 

Back I went to the psychiatrist that got me off them the first time.

He immediately sent me for a liver function test and started me on

another withdrawal program. It wasn't too bad. I had some bad days but

nothing I couldn't cope with. I had the usual hot sweats and my hair

fell out in clumps but I managed to carry on a fairly normal life.

 

During the next 2-3 years things started to go downhill. My feet would

go numb; I had unreality, depersonalisation and depression but at

least I was by now off the Xanax and the Marplan was down to 2mgs from 8.

 

It was at this time that along with hundreds of other sufferers we

started legal action against the drug companies. We all had to get an

independent report on our history of benzo use. This in my case was of

course with another psychiatrist. He agreed that all my problems were

from the overprescribing of Xanax but he also advised me to come off

the last 2 mgs of Marplan. He felt these could also cause problems in

the future. He sent me to see yet another psychiatrist in a local

private clinic called " The Priory " . I went twice a week for about six

weeks.

 

Because my family thought that by paying for the best you get the

best, by now we were broke as I was unable to work. They insisted on

paying the £200 a day. It is, as you can imagine, a complete waste of

money. Every time I saw a doctor that was extra. Most of the other

patients had what I suppose are " normal " mental health problems such

as personality disorders, anorexia or other eating disorders, etc. No

one else had a problem with benzos and I don't think they had a clue

what was wrong with me. They had us sitting round in circles

discussing our problems and drawing things that made us angry. It was

a total waste of money. That all happened over ten years ago and I

don't think they have much more of a clue about benzos today. At least

for the first time in years I was drug free. I thought this was the

end of my problems but how wrong I was!

 

About a month after this I was at a party when I started to feel

unwell. This is where the real horror story starts. I was constantly

violently sick and had chronic diarrhoea at the same time. Back came

the unreality, the depersonalisation and the depression. My brain was

like a computer out of control. Fear poured out of my stomach. I was

hallucinating and every nerve in my body jerked and screamed. My heart

beat so fast I thought it would come out of my body. I had constant

panic attacks, could not sit still, had to walk for miles, continually

going behind a tree to be sick. I could hardly see. It was as though I

was in a tunnel.

 

After a few weeks of this the symptoms eased but I was still very

poorly so my family once again insisted I see some one else. They

could not believe that all these problems came from coming off the

drugs. There had to be something seriously wrong with me. Yet another

private psychiatrist was called in. Although by now we were in

constant contact with people running benzo self help groups I refused

to believe that all of this hell was a belated withdrawal from the Xanax.

 

The first thing the latest psychiatrist suggested was shock treatment.

I was terrified. My husband had always said it was the benzos. I think

the psychiatrist knew that as well, and I asked her to prescribe

Valium to prove the point. Although she was reluctant to do this she

gave me a prescription for 20mg a day. I decided to take as little as

possible. Steve, my husband, wasn't really happy with me taking any

but by then he had had just about as much as he could take. I took

what I thought was a small dose (7½mg a day) and after just a few

hours I was, to my surprise, completely well again.

 

We were by now totally broke and living in a caravan. Once again I was

feeling on top of the world and when we were offered the chance to run

a local hotel we jumped at it. Another terrible mistake - about as

stressful you can get. At first I loved it but after a while the

withdrawal started up again. It started with what I thought was the

flu but soon developed into full blown withdrawal. All the old

terrible symptoms came back again. We left the hotel and I took to my

bed. I stayed there for months. Again I could take no more and,

against advice, increased the Valium to 15mg. Once again I was my old

self, running the dog round the park etc. telling myself that this

time I would avoid all stress and come off them very slowly.

 

As we still had no income and I was determined not to go on social

security we opened another shop with money an aunt had left me. I

thought that being occupied doing the job I loved would be the answer,

and, as long as I didn't get too stressed out everything would be OK.

Wrong. Four months after opening the shop it all started again. First

the unreality returned and I couldn't bear to be with people, and then

the rest of the symptoms came back. I had of course reached my

tolerance level again.

 

I was forced to give up the shop and once again I became a recluse,

seeing no one for the next 20 months, most of the time just sitting

rocking and crying. I became violent and aggressive, smashing

furniture etc. I thought I was really going mad this time. Once again

the family insisted we call in someone else - again the best that

money could buy. I had, by then, managed to reduce to 6mg but I had

become totally suicidal. This new psychiatrist convinced us that all

the others we had seen knew nothing about benzos, and, that if we

stuck with him, he would finally solve my problems. His treatment

consisted of my going up to 30mg Valium a day, but this time I must

see a cognitive therapist while reducing. I was so desperate I would

have done anything. It all seemed to make sense to my family who had

always said it was my personality that was the problem. I could never

do things by halves and always overdid things.

 

By now a familiar pattern was developing. Every time I increased my

dose I had a few months of normality and then I would go back into

withdrawal. We now know that this is exactly what happens to everyone.

Once you reach tolerance level you go back into withdrawal. The

psychiatrist convinced us that there was an amount you could take to

level out and either stay on them or come off them very, very slowly.

He eventually got me up to 125mg a day, saying that this was a common

amount in America. Our GP had already said that I needed benzos like

everyone else needs oxygen so I didn't argue and just took them. Yet

another fatal mistake for which I can only blame myself. I just wanted

so much to believe him.

 

Christmas Day was not too bad but by New Year's Eve I was once again

housebound. It all started again but I was on 125mg. Needless to say

this latest psychiatrist dumped me. Suddenly he was no longer

available and when I did manage to get hold of him he just said I must

grit my teeth and get off them! Another £3000 down the drain and I was

then in a far worse state.

 

I became very suicidal; I couldn't see anybody or go anywhere. I just

stared at the floor most of the time.

 

I gritted my teeth, as he told me to, and for another 20 months or so

I steadily reduced, again getting down to about 7mg.

 

I then made the worst and most costly mistake to date. We heard

through the Internet about a doctor in California who had developed a

method of getting people off benzos with a combination of acupuncture

and Novocain injections. This dulled the pain, he told us. A lady we

spoke to had been to him with the same problem and now she was

completely well. The doctor told us it didn't matter how much I was

on, so, in order to face the journey I once again, against everyone's

advice, increased my dose back up to 125mg, thinking this would only

be for a day or two.

 

The treatment involved coming off almost cold turkey while having a

lot of very painful injections. This was in conjunction with taking a

lot of Chinese herbs. Within three weeks I was down to 10mg and I

really believed this time we had the answer. Anyone who has been on

benzos will know what comes next. I hit the floor in a big way.

 

At the time we were staying with my half sister not far from the

doctor's surgery. Unfortunately she was selling the house at the time

so I could not take to my bed. We also had our return ticket booked

and, because we were only allowed to stay for 90 days, I was compelled

once again to increase my dose. I levelled out on 75mgs and, at least

for the remainder of our stay (about 6 weeks), I was able to do some

wonderful things.

 

I tell myself that all the money that it had cost my family to send me

there wasn't completely wasted - even if that wasn't the idea of

going. At least I had had a long and much needed holiday. In order to

face the flight home I was again forced to increase my dose to 125mg.

For a couple of months after our return I was able to have a semblance

of life before it all hit me again. I am now once again housebound and

in full withdrawal.

 

To date I have managed to reduce to 40mg and with the help of friends

in the Benzo Group I am determined to do it this time. I have no one

to blame for the mess I am in but myself. I was told years ago by

ex-benzo addicts that the only answer is to stop taking these evil

drugs and this time that is exactly what I intend to do - without the

help of all those so called experts that, in the main, are only

interested in our money.

 

I am sorry that this is such a long and rambling story, but it has

helped me just to share it with all of you.

 

Love and God Bless,

Valerie Bell

November 12, 2001